


The Standards of Private Healthcare

by Xiaolxn



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Medical Procedures, Poisoning, Romantic Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiaolxn/pseuds/Xiaolxn
Summary: Liza Braus has always been the epitome of private healthcare, simply because she’s a Doctor who wants to be left alone. Her clientele and patient list is short and specific, limited to those worthy of her hard-earned trust, and occasionally, the odd monster hunter or two.Her clinic is state-of-the-art, hidden, private, and beyond well-fortified, but unfortunately for her pride and purse-strings, one particular hunter has a reputation for shattering both privacy and door hinges…as well as bringing forth new challenges to the world of medicine.





	The Standards of Private Healthcare

“You cannot just let yourself in here!”

The door was cracked open, the hinges which cost her 3,000 euros each bent and crinkled, pried apart with a crass metal tool. She stepped through the gap that the vandalism had created, then gripped the door and forced it shut. She grunted, pushing it harder, and then hurriedly gripped the lever next to the arch and pulled, hard; the door let out a hiss and snapped shut, the mechanism in the wall letting out a little whir of confirmation got confirm it had sealed shut. She groaned and pulled her coat off, tossing it over a chair before she walked through the hallway, peering around. She pressed her hand to a panel on the wall, eyes flickering overhead; the lights didn’t turn on. She groaned and pulled her glasses from her pocket, sliding them over her nose as she moved further into the house.

“…Herr Koval? Koval?” She peered into the bedroom, then hurriedly descended the stairs at the end of the hallway. “You can’t keep breaking _in_ here, those doors cost me six thousand euros to replace and I can’t keep doing it! Just ask for a key, I’ll give you a damn key-!”

She let out a little yell as she slipped on the stair, grabbing the rail to stay upright. She looked down, the stairway illuminated slightly from the moonlight outside, and raised her foot.

Her heart gave a little flutter at the sight of the dark clot of blood on the bottom of her shoe, smeared across the step where she’d slipped. She swallowed down a little ball of fear in the back of her throat and hurried down the rest of the steps. She was never sure what she was going to find in her laboratory when this occasion arose, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t ready for it. She pulled a fresh coat from the rack at the bottom of the stairs and pulled it on, pressing her hand to the panel next to the door. It let out a little hiss as it opened, letting her step into the small room before her. The door slid shut and she took a deep breath, sterilising her hands quickly in the basin by the wall, before opening the second door which lead into her lab.

“…Oh God…”

He was lying on the gurney already, his shirt off with a needle in his hand. The wound was on his abdomen this time, stretching over his ribs. It wasn’t just lacerated skin this time; the muscle had been cleanly sliced through, a wound too ragged to be caused by anything even akin to clean, and a small flash of pearly white bone was visible. There was too much blood for her to relax for even a moment; she ran over and immediately pulled the gurney round, her heart hammering in her chest. She pulled the needle from his fingers and pushed him under a large, circular light which she pulled round, pressing a switch to turn it on. His eyes were closed, but he visibly flinched under the sudden glare. His skin was ashen grey.

“…Herr Koval?” She slapped his face gently. “Herr Koval, please, stay with me, try and stay awake-!” She looked at her hands, covered in blood, and shook her head to clear it. She pulled on a pair of gloves and turned back to him, lowering the gurney to a workable height before pulling over a tray. She pushed her glasses further up her nose, smearing blood across the bridge, and she placed her hand on his abdomen. “Please, speak to me, I need to know what happened!”

He didn’t say anything, his chest rattling as he breathed slowly. She swallowed and immediately began to clear up the wound, pulling a bin over with her foot to dispose of the rags when they were overly saturated.

“…Manticore.”

She paused, eyes flickering to his face as she dumped another rag in the bin. She pushed her hair back out of her eyes as she hurried away, pulling open a small, sealed refrigerator at the end of the room. She removed two pint bags of blood, _(of course she knew his type by heart now),_ and hurried back over, fumbling slightly as she set up a drip.

“M-manticore-?”

“A beast,” he breathed, his fingers clenching on his chest as he took a painful breath. “Head of a lion. Wings of a bat. Tail of a scorpion-”

“Scorpion’s all I need!”

Venom was a threat. She immediately ran to the wall and pressed a button, a section of it sliding away. She gripped the handle of a smooth, white machine and pulled it along behind it, sliding it along the floor effortlessly. She gripped his arm and pulled it around, removing a needle from the machine and positioning it against his arm.

“Please refrain from movement-!” She pushed the needle into his forearm and he hissed in pain, her hands already working on the machine. She turned it on and his blood, (or at least, what remained of it,) immediately began to flow through the clear, clean plastic tubes, running through the machine and round two plastic wheels in the front. Dialysis. Her own, special brand.

“What pierced you, in particular?” she asked hurriedly, placing a cloth on his forehead. She hesitated, then placed the back of her hand to his face. Sometimes she didn’t need a thermometer; sometimes a touch was good enough. “…Herr Koval?”

“…The tail,” he hissed. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. A wound, a fever, and a greyish tint to his skin. Venom was definite; she just hoped she’d got him on her dialysis in time.

“I see-”

“Can you cure it, Doc?”

She paused, eyes flickering to his. She bit her lip, but then her expression changed. She gripped his hand and she nodded firmly.

“…Yes,” she replied firmly, releasing him before walking over to a cupboard. She pulled out another machine, hauling it over to his form and arranging the tubes hurriedly. She pulled a mask over, turning dials and switches as she leant over him. “Breathe deeply. Count backwards from ten.”

“You’re putting me under?”

“Doctor’s orders.” She slipped the mask gently over his mouth and let out a long breath. “…On my life, you’ll wake up.” She gently pressed a switch on the side of this new machine and watched him as his eyes closed, taking slow, steady breaths. She watched as his body relaxed, the clenched fists releasing as he slipped into the anaesthetic-induced sleep. She hurriedly put the mask back and took a seat, beginning to get to work.

Close the wound.

_Close the wound._

* * *

When he woke up, the sun was well risen. His eyes flickered to the window and his breath slipped slowly from his chest. It was past three in the morning when he finally staggered into the laboratory in this little Swiss residence, trailing thick black blood. It was now definitely past four in the afternoon, the sun at its summer peak, the snow off the Alps almost blinding him through the window. He closed his eyes and let his hand move to his abdomen. As usual, when the good doctor was presented with a wound, there were no bandages. He’d never met a doctor before who’d never used bandages, but then, no other doctor worked the same way as Braus.

His fingers brushed against the skin where he was gored. He opened his eyes and looked down, a small smile tugging at his lips. She was a genius. An absolute genius. The wound was gone completely, a thick, white, puckered scar running along where the wound had been. Already, it looked several weeks old, and when he forced himself to sit up, there was barely any pain. He went to lean forwards, but his movement was halted with a little snag; his eyes flickered down to the needle stuck firmly in his arm, and his gaze ran along the tube leading up to the drip. Of course he’d still be hooked up to a drip.

She’d yet to hit 100%.

He stood up and gripped the drip and took a step forwards. His feet were bare on the pristine laboratory floor, and made next to no noise as he walked across it. The station where she’d sewn him shut and cleaned his blood-soaked body looked as though no one had operated on it in weeks, such was the cleanliness. She was obsessive, it would seem, with cleanliness, and he was oh-so-very grateful for it. He looked around, then walked over to the door, dragging the drip frame along with him. The door remained resolutely closed until he pressed a button on the wall, where it slid open to allow him into the sterilisation room on the other side. He had to wait a few moments before the other door would open and allow him through, but then he simply picked up the drip frame and carried it up the stairs.

The blood he’d leaked on the floor was gone and when he glanced down the hallway, he saw the door had been fixed. Part of him, the less practical part, felt a slight twinge of guilt at the memory that he’d broken the hinges again, forcing his way back into this place. He really should steal a key so he didn’t cost her any more money, but this time he could rectify it. He’d pay for the door.

He walked into the living room, looking around. This woman must have been funded by the government to be able to live like this. Everything was white and gleaming, the wall covered in pristine crystal glass which opened up onto a view of the beautiful Swiss countryside below. It was remarkable, the feeling of being in this building. Looking onto the snow-capped mountainside whilst being at the perfect temperature inside? Perfection. His eyes went to the TV, a thin sheet of black built into the wall before her beautiful sofa, and then round to the kitchen at the end of the room. Again, so clean he could see his reflection in every surface. There was no way this woman did all of this herself; she had to have at least three sycophantic cleaners in a few times a week to maintain this standard. It almost made him shiver at the thought.

Given that the good doctor wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, there was really only one other place she could be. He wheeled his drip down the hallway silently, pushing open a door at the end of the building with a soft breath.

Her bedroom was simple. A large bed, far too large for a woman so small, stretched across one wall, with the opposite taken up by a large window, much like the living room. The wardrobes and storage were built directly into the walls, all her clothes and trinkets hidden from view. It was sleek and bare and stylish, drastically different to the woman who’d passed out in the bed. He stood there for a moment and just watched her. Her glasses were on the bedside table, her hair a shambles. There were still flecks of blood clotted in the strands and splattered across her face, even crusted under her nails. It was evident she’d been fast asleep for hours now, her form too peaceful to be anywhere near consciousness. It was almost a shame to wake her.

He walked over and placed his hand on her bare shoulder, shaking gently. A little moan escaped her lips and he shook a little firmer, frowning. Part of him wanted to leave her and let her carry on sleeping, but he had a question he needed answering, and she could continue sleeping once he had the answer.

“Doc. Doc, wake up.”

She groaned and gripped his wrist, her eyes opening slightly. By the way she was squinting, he knew that the light was burning her eyes. He hated that feeling; it was the feeling you had when you really hadn’t had enough sleep, a dull pain in your temple and a burn in the whites of your eyes.

“…Herr Koval-”

“Is my wound closed?” he asked immediately. “Completely. Don’t explain, just answer yes or no.”

She was still for a few moments, then collapsed back onto her side. He smiled slightly.

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Yes, it’s closed. The cellular regen-”

“Go back to sleep, Doc.”

“…You can take the drip out now.”

“I planned on it. Sleep.”

She slumped back into the pillow, complying immediately. He picked up his drip and walked around her bed, (one hell of a trek,) to a door on the other side of the room. He opened it to reveal the bathroom, as sleek and stylish as the rest of the house, and shut the door behind him. He stood above the sink and slowly eased the needle out of his arm, stemming the blood with a little tissue before unhooking the bag completely. The tube would drip everywhere if he didn’t, and he didn’t want to face the wrath of Braus should he soil her bathroom.

He turned on her shower, a marvellous contraption with a large, square head, and shed the remains of his clothes before stepping under the hot spray. Immediately his muscles began to relax, the pristine white floor dirtying with brown blood as it washed off his skin in thick clumps. He watched it gather in the water before sliding down the silver drain by his toes, probably off to some eco-friendly recycling system in the mountains. Switzerland was nice that was.

Always so courteous.

He washed himself thoroughly, running the soap over his scar carefully despite her confirmation that it was healed. He washed the grime from under his nails and took a break from the water to hunt through her things until he found a razor, where he bought it back to the water. She had a mirror on the other side of the room with an extractor fan above it, so the steam had no effect whatsoever. He didn’t even have to leave the damn water to _shave_.

This really was one hell of a place she had.

He didn’t step out of that shower under he was the cleanest he’d been in months. He found a clean towel and patted himself dry before tucking it round his waist, making sure everything was back in place before he opened the door slowly. There was still a tuft of blonde hair on the pillow of that ridiculous bed, barely moving. Still sound asleep.

He smirked to himself and picked up the drip frame, carrying it through the room and out into the hallway. He returned it to the lab on the ground floor, going through that irksome sterilisation process once more, before he finally wandered into the kitchen. Braus, being Braus, naturally had a fully stocked kitchen, the cupboard filled with all kinds of supplements. He poured himself a large glass of water and downed it in a few mouthfuls, taking a second to put the glass in the sink before beginning to rootle for something that wasn’t derived from whey powder.

“Your shirt was ruined.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder, a carton of eggs in his hand. Braus was standing on the border of the kitchen and the living room, wrapped up in a dressing gown. She wasn’t wearing her glasses for once, and he could see the bright blue of her eyes. He frowned.

“I told you to sleep.”

“I did. You were in the bathroom for an hour and a half.”

He was still for a few seconds, then shrugged and turned back to the cupboard. He heard her move behind him, taking a seat at the kitchen island as he put the eggs down on the counter. He wasn’t even entirely sure how anything in this kitchen worked; it looked like it ran on brain power rather than actual buttons and dials, but he was determined to work it out.

“…Would you like some clothes?”

“Why, am I distracting you?”

He could feel her smile without even glancing at her. He paused as he reached for the breadbin, taking a moment. He had to slow down.

He turned to watch her as she walked over to a cupboard, opening it. Of course there was a machine hidden inside it, obscured by the perfectly matching panels. She opened the little door and pulled out his trousers, freshly washed and smelling of detergent. She paused, and then offered them to him.

“…I’m not a miracle worker,” she said slowly. “Your shirt was…I was unable to salvage it.”

He nodded slowly and took the trousers from her hand, glancing down at his towel. He looked back up at her, and she went absolutely scarlet before scrambling with the machine once more. His smirk returned as she threw his underwear at him, turning away as he caught them between his fingers. Without a word needing to be exchanged, he left the kitchen and returned to her bedroom, dressing slowly. The clothes were clean and smelt good, despite lacking the shirt which had been shredded by the manticore. His chest burned at the memory of it; a fearsome beast indeed, and one that had narrowly escaped the fate he was to bestow unto it.

Both had got a good hit in right at the end, its barb to his torso, his blade to its chest.

The only difference was, Koval had someone to sew him up afterwards.

He walked back down the hallway, the smell of cooking filling his nostrils. He walked back into the kitchen to the sight of Braus standing at the oven, tucking her hair behind her ear as she carefully cooked whatever meat was sizzling in the pan. He felt a tug in his chest; it was like this woman could read minds, or at least, read _his_ mind.

“…Doc-”

“Protein’s good when you’ve suffered an injury that draws that much blood,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulder. “…But you need iron right now. I’m sorry, I know it’s not exactly…the first thing you’d want to eat in the morning, but…you need a good steak in you right now.”

“You still have blood on you.”

She blinked at him, but then touched her hair. She nodded slowly.

“…I didn’t have a chance to shower-”

“Go. I know how to cook a steak.”

She hesitated, but was cut short when he walked over and took the pan from her hands. She paused, wringing them anxiously, but then she nodded, turning and hurrying away. He watched her go, disappearing down the hallway and back into her bedroom. The pipes in the wall began to rumble as the water heated up, and he turned his eyes back to the steak on the stove. She’d put two in the pan, determined to keep him company with the unorthodox breakfast; he bit back a smile at this idea. She was probably just as hungry as he was, having to perform so complicated a surgery so late at night. He hadn’t yet asked her what she was doing out of the house at three in the morning, and he wasn’t sure if he would.

He was perfectly willing to invade her house.

Her privacy was a different matter.

By the time he was finished, she wandered back into the room, wrapped in a jeans and a crimson turtleneck with her glasses on the tip of her nose. Her hair was still wet, sleek and pretty against her skull and mercifully free of blood, as was the rest of her.

“Nice shirt.”

She blinked at him, surprise in those pretty blue eyes, but then she smiled. It was a tired smile, (she still hadn’t had enough sleep,) but it was a pretty smile, a genuine smile. It was a smile that said _thank you_ without her having to utter a single word.

Seconds ticked by as he slowly plated up the unusual breakfast, and he saw how she inhaled as he did so. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to eat it, that he didn’t have to touch it if it made her nauseous, but he knew her better than that by now. If Liza Braus didn’t want to eat, then she simply wouldn’t eat.

But right now, she had made the conscious choice to keep him company, and he wouldn’t disrespect her choice and try to brush it off.

“So.” He was the first to break the silence, but only after a few mouthfuls of what was possibly the most incredible thing he’d ever eaten. “How bad was it?”

She looked up, sipping from a glass of water she’d procured a few moments earlier.

“…Bad?” she blinked slowly behind those sleek little spectacles, but then nodded. “Ah, your wound.” She put her glass down and sat up a little straighter. Once again, she was visibly wrestling with that which all surgeons wrestled with in the aftercare of a patient, especially a regular one at that; she was deciding on how blunt to be.

“Straight, Doctor.”

She smiled again, such a pretty smile, and she picked up her knife and fork once more in relief. It wasn’t often that she needed direction in how to act, but when it came to Koval…she had trouble. Stupid trouble, silly trouble, trouble that a doctor should never get into over a patient…but whilst its existence was a pain, it certainly couldn’t be denied.

“It was bad,” she said calmly, looking at him as she continued to calmly cut her steak. “On a level I haven’t had to deal with since my days as a student. The wound was deep, and brutal. Your lower ribs were broken, and your liver, kidneys, and large intestine suffered significant damage from laceration.” She picked up her water and took a gentle sip. “All of those physical wounds were easy enough to deal with, with my own technology of course…the venom was a different matter.”

“I feel that now is a good time to let you know that no one has ever survived Mantecore venom.”

“I guessed.” She smiled slightly. “It acted…less like a venom, more like an acid. It liked to corrode both flesh and bone with little to no signs of diluting itself. Luckily, or…not, depending on your position in the lab, you’d bled out so much that the venom hadn’t managed to spread around your body. In a way, we’re both lucky that that wound was so bad. If you’d been stung and not slashed, then even I couldn’t have saved you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You are very sweet, Herr Koval, but unfortunately, you are also wrong.” She gave him a gentle smile. “…That venom is something…entirely new. It took me several hours to create an antidote to combat its effects, but luckily it just gave the wounds more time to heal whilst I tinkered. You did well to get here when you did. It was…eerily perfect timing.”

“I would have been earlier if you didn’t always lock your door.”

She raised an eyebrow at the smirk he hid with his own glass of water, one which he downed in one go. She’d tried to keep up his fluids all through his recovery, but it was evident that he was still thirsty, lacking the water he needed. She wouldn’t stop him; it was perfectly safe now for him to drink as much as he wanted, short of what was safe, anyway. She wouldn’t allow him to drown himself after all of her hard work.

She wasn’t wasteful.

“…Here.” She straightened up and slid her hand into her pocket. He shifted slightly as she pulled put a small, silver key with a triangular head, attached to a small white keyfob. He raised an eyebrow as she held it out to him. “I got it cut this afternoon, when I went into town to get a new distilling tube. Use the key, stop breaking my door.”

“I’m not taking a key.”

“You’re not breaking my door.”

“I don’t do domestic.”

“It’s not domestic, Bishop, it’s practical!”

A moment of silence wrung out around the room, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. It was only on rare occasion that the good doctor would address Koval by his first name, and only when her patience was either worn thin from insubordination or driven to a point of madness from worry. It was clear which option had triggered this use of his name, as he was now feeling healthier than he had in months.

She was putting her foot down.

He placed his glass by the side of his plate and slowly reached over, plucking the key from her fingers. She raised an eyebrow as he slowly peered at it, before, at long last, sliding it into the pocket of his trousers.

“…I won’t always have it on me,” he eventually muttered, enough petulance in his voice to make her smile

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she mumbled triumphantly, taking a sip from her own glass. “You’re a rather straight-forward man, Herr Koval. Forgive me for saying so.”

“I have no doubt that it’s what convinces you to keep me alive, Doc.”

She grinned, resting her chin on the heel of her palm.

“…Partly. Also, I enjoy the presents you bring me.”

She stood up and he nodded slowly, getting to his feet. Without another word, they both walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, descending into the confines of the laboratory. Koval held his breath during the sterilisation process, partly to avoid inhaling the antibacterial sprays, partly due to the fact that the room was small and he was not.

The door opened and he watched as Liza entered the large room, slowly following behind her. Her hair was still slightly damp at the back, prompting within him a strange urge to reach out and touch it. It was almost annoying.

“Here.”

He watched as she pulled open the door to one of the fridges on the wall, slowly removing a large, glass jar. A small hiss escaped his lips when he saw the deep violet liquid sloshing about inside, thick enough to stick to the sides of the jar before slowly sliding down to gather in a pool in the bottom.

“…And that’s all of it?”

“I assure you, every drop of the venom that was in your bloodstream is now inside this jar,” she said slowly, placing it back in the fridge. She shut the door and hesitated, looking back at him. “…Whilst the effects it has whilst incubating within a body are rather…apparent, during initial scans I did notice properties of significant interest-”

“You said it was like an acid.”

“A parasitic acid. The stronger _you_ got, the stronger _it_ got. It’s fascinating.”

“It’s deadly.”

“I know.” She smiled at him. “…Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

His own lips flickered slightly, mirroring her smile. Every single excursion to this little Swiss residence resulted in both of them getting something they wanted; Koval received a level of health he could not get anywhere else, and Liza took it upon herself to take “souvenirs” from their various encounters. It was impossible to recall everything he had brought her, but he could remember that it included the Manticore venom, a tooth and claw from a Chimera, and, her personal favourite, the corpse of a snake sliced from the scalp of a Gorgon. Upon receiving these gifts, Liza would spend days in this lab, forgoing sunlight, water, and food in her scientific journey for understanding the supernatural and magical world. Applying magic to science was what she _did_ , it was her passion.

Koval was the key for feeding this passion.

“What do you intend on doing with that venom?” he eventually asked, drawing her gaze from the fridge. She looked at him through those bright blue eyes and hesitated a moment, before slowly adjusting her glasses with her thumb.

“…It’s polite of you to ask, but I’m sure you wouldn’t be-”

“Interested. I’m interested. So I’m asking.”

She paused, but then smiled and nodded slowly.

“…Well, I was…planning on testing levels of manual dilution,” she said slowly. “It shown no sign of thinning out inside your body, which…made it so dangerous. But I’m confident that, under some sense of control, this venom can act on a cellular level, eradicating tainted and diseased cells.”

“You’re thinking the venom can cure cancer?”

“Oh, no, that would involve years of me rewriting the entire chemistry of the venom,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. “Not only would I not look so young by the time I’d finished, but I would lose what makes it so potent in doing so. No. No, simply, the venom already shown signs of attacking fatty acids before anything else, probably to make room for the acid in the venom, and I’m positive that, with the correct amount of tampering, I could programme it, in small enough doses, to combat Alzheimer’s, dementia, any chronic and debilitating imbalances in brain chemistry.” She smiled softly. “The venom that almost killed you could spare many lives.”

“You always liked looking at the bigger picture.”

“It’s my job.”

“You don’t have a job.”

She paused, a shadow of annoyance flickering across her face. She frowned at him as he slowly rested against the wall, his eyes on her.

“Herr-”

“It was hard to find you,” he said slowly. “More to the point, I never intended on looking. I stumbled on it by accident.” Her face was hard to read. Her defences were up. “You had your medical credentials removed from the board because your treatments and your methods were… _too radical_.” He raised an eyebrow. “That was the exact quote _. Too radical._ What does that mean?”

“You know nothing about what happened,” she breathed, folding her arms slowly. “…What was…done to my name-”

“Then tell me.”

“You don’t need to know.”

“Then I’ll believe what I read.”

“It’s a lie. It’s all lies.” He almost smiled. “I was never…too radical, my treatments and methods were not out of the ordinary!” Her voice was odd; controlled, and yet bordering on hysterics. It was like she’d break at any moment, and she wasn’t even sure if she wouldn’t. This was a conversation that hurt her. “I made a breakthrough in medicine that the world was not ready for, a breakthrough that would cost pharmaceutical companies their entire business-!”

“Which was?”

“Nanotechnology.” He visibly paused. “I’ve used it on you, many, many times. Even last night.” She paused, and then sighed, bowing her head slightly. “…I…used a micromesh. It’s far too complicated to explain without the maths and the science-”

“I wouldn’t understand it anyway.”

“I know, I just-” she took a deep breath. “…I can heal…anything. Any physical wound. Down to a level that no other surgeon has been able to even _graze_. My technology was meant to change the world of medicine. Broken bones healed in a matter of hours, cuts and lacerations made like they never existed in minutes. Hospital waiting times would fall, the cost of medicine would fall, the profits of the companies who overcharge for treatment would plummet and people would no longer be plunged into debt for getting into accidents…” Her fists were clenched. “…I wanted to push forward with this technology, my Asclepius nanomesh…but the second I brought it to the medical board-”

“Companies and their profits were threatened,” he finished flatly, watching her close her eyes. “People were paid off and you were slandered and your medical licence was revoked.”

“…I am sure you have read the lies about me-”

“I read people died under your care. Never found out their names, only that it happened.” A pause. “And that your experiments broke various UN laws and violated human rights. You had a knack for experimenting on people.” He gestured to himself. “I can’t exactly disagree with that.”

“I worked under a certified medical board in a prominent G20 country,” she mumbled, holding her elbows gently. Her voice was soft now, deflated. Defeated. “…I suppose what hurts the most about those lies is how…it would only take a _little_ digging from _anyone_ to reveal that it’s not true. The forgery is screaming out. But no one can see it, because everyone who matters was paid to look the other way.”

“I wasn’t.”

She paused, her cheeks pinkening as she looked up at him. He stared at her, his arms folded against his chest. They stood in silence for a few moments, and then he sighed and stood up straight.

“I wanted to know,” he said simply. “I wanted to know why you were all the way out here. Why you don’t have your PhD hanging from the wall like every other doctor in the world. Why you don’t have any nurses or assistants. Curiosity got the better of me in the end.”

“And now you know.”

“You were slandered, Braus.” She blinked. “I believe everything you’ve told me. I see now why you’re so touchy about me breaking the door.”

“A-anyone would be angry-!”

“Anyone else would have called the police.”

He enjoyed her smile. He liked when she bowed her head in a futile attempt to hide it, removing her glasses as she did so. She seemed to think she was fooling someone by doing so, but he could see through it. Every single time.

He liked to think it was because she was so bad at hiding it.

“I should go.”

She blinked and looked up at him, still holding her elbows gently. But her defences had fallen and she was far calmer than she had been before, the usual conversation about that damn door having soothed her nerves. She watched him for a few seconds, then gently placed her glasses back on her nose.

“…You don’t…have to, not if you’re not feeling s-”

“Your nanomesh does its work well enough, Doc,” he cut her off, raising a hand. “I feel fine. I need to make sure that the beast is dead, or it could send many more to your operating table.”

“You’re only just out of surgery, you shouldn’t…”

“I’m confident I’m in no danger. It was in the same state as me when I escaped. The difference is, I had you. It did not.” He rolled his shoulders slowly. “If it didn’t perish from its wounds, then it would have been pecked apart by the crows by now. I just need its head.”

“…Head?”

“Nothing can live without one. I like to be certain.”

She nodded slowly, almost sadly. He watched her, waiting for any other kind of response, but then returned her nod curtly. He turned and walked back towards the door, fighting down the urge to break down the one opposite to escape that damn antibacterial solution, when she spoke;

“At least take this with you.”

He stopped and looked back as she opened up the little fridge once more, removing a tube stack. There were three vials balanced within, each containing a pale purple liquid. He frowned as she removed one, putting the others back before carrying it over to her desk. He walked over and shut the fridge door, and then followed her.

“…Already?”

“I made the antidote before I even began to sew you up,” she mumbled, pulling out a hypodermic syringe. “It’s no good healing your wounds if you still have poison in your blood.”

He nodded slowly, watching her slip the needle into a little case. She turned to him and hesitated, holding it out to him.

“…It’s not perfect,” she said slowly, watching him take the little black case delicately in his hand. “I wouldn’t depend on it, but…for about five minutes after administration, it should directly combat any venom that gets into your system. Five minutes to cut off its head, do you hear me?”

“I’ll have it in three.”

She nodded shortly as he slid the precious concoction into a compartment on his belt. Without a word, she lead him out of the laboratory, and, as he wafted away the stench of disinfectant, up the stairs. He picked up his boots from the end of the hall and eased his feet into them, glancing up as she walked over with a coat. He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re in the Alps and you don’t have a shirt,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on the wall beside him. “Closest town is three miles down the road, keep to your left, and you can get what you need. I didn’t know what to…well.” She cleared her throat. “Just take the coat. You’re no use to anyone if you’re frozen to death.”

He stood up slowly, his boots firmly laced, then reached out and took it. He slid it on over his skin, zipping up the front with a sigh. It was good, thick and expensive, used for traversing these mountains in any condition. It never occurred to him that Liza may actually like walking. To him, she was always in this house, in that lab, making miracles and never being thanked for them.

He paused as she opened the door, revealing the sun glaring off the snow-capped peaks surrounding them. Switzerland was beautiful.

“…Braus.”

She paused, glancing at him as he stepped up to her. She blinked as he rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. The skin on his fingertips and palms were rough, made so by years of hunting, climbing, sleeping rough; the softness sacrificed for the good of those who didn’t even know what he did.

It was the most reassuring thing she’d ever felt in her life.

“…Thanks.”

She went red as he removed his hand, stepping around her and out into the fresh air. She took a few moments, and then turned, standing in the doorway. He was already on the track that lead into the trees, one which, after a good ten minutes, would take him out onto the road into the mountains. She bit her lip. Hopefully he’d get a car from the little town, enough to get him to Geneva where he could go on to where…wherever he was going. She bit her tongue slowly. She should have asked. She should have made him tell her where he’d be. No.

No.

_She should have gone with him._

She smiled slowly, then stepped back into the warm. Liza Braus, a front-lines medic. Now, of all the professions in the medical field, that was one she hadn’t tried out yet. She reckoned she’d give it a shot at some point in her life, when adventure beckoned.

Maybe adventure would ask her to come along next time.

She placed her hands gently on the white plastic and pushed the door shut, turning the handle up slowly to lock it into position. She smoothed her hands gently over the plastic and closed her eyes, resting her forehead upon it. For a second, she allowed herself to worry, worry for the man who protected so many people who didn’t even know his name, but then she smiled.

He’d be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading, y’all have no idea how much it means to me to see those hits and kudos go up, it really warms my heart. <3 Writing this was a tricky one for me, simply because I never thought I’d write anything with Liza and Bishop that didn’t end up with them tumbling into bed together. But nope, this is resolutely PG and absolutely not sexy at all.  
> Except for the tension lmao.   
> I hope you enjoyed!


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